


I don’t need forever (I don’t have that long).

by Alexander_Slamilton



Series: Ou La Mort [2]
Category: 19th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing, LOOK AT THEM, M/M, i love them, i needed them to be happy, the boys kiss, they smooch!, they're so gay!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 13:38:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9237461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_Slamilton/pseuds/Alexander_Slamilton
Summary: A deleted scene from my les mis/hamilton fic, (death is the least of our worries) I would read that before reading this. Alexander and Enjolras dance and maybe smooch.





	

The fire in the grate crackled softly, it was barely burning, really only embers remained; though the odd flame reached up every now and then. Alexander’s writing board wobbled slightly on his lap, pitching alarmingly to the left, the ink in its pot slopping over the rim of the bottle; his pen did not stop skating over the page though. There was a candle on the small coffee table, that was really just a few crates stacked on top of each other; it flickered and danced, the flame making the strangest shadows on Alexander’s face. He had his tongue stuck out and his eyebrows were furrowed; his hand looked like it could do with a break, his fingers were ink stained. He still wrote, unaware of the moon rising behind him, blooming into view out of the window. Enjolras watched from the doorway, he resisted the urge to cross the room and tuck a wayward strand of Alexander’s hair behind his ear. He watched as Alexander finished the page he was working on and set it beside him carefully, blowing on some of the larger blotches of ink so as to make sure it didn't run. As the embers in the fire died, the room grew colder and darker, and Enjolras was growing cold; it didn't seem like Alex had noticed because he kept scribbling. 

 

“Alexander,” Enjolras said softly, stepping in to the room.

 

“Hmm? When did you get home?” Alexander asked, looking up at Enjolras, his face breaking into a sleepy sort of smile.

 

“A few minutes ago,” Enjolras moved closer, sliding between Alex’s parted knees, and kissing the top of his head, “come on, you need to stand up.” 

 

“No,” Alexander moaned softly, though he let Enjolras pull him into his arms anyway, after he’d gently put the writing board aside. “What’re you doing?” Alex asked, yawning.

 

“Dance with me,” Enjolras said, smiling as he rested his cheek on Alex’s head, one hand trailing gently down his back; the other sliding in to position around his waist. 

 

“There’s no music,” Alexander mumbled into Enjolras’s chest, but he let the man sway them gently around the room, content to just follow Enjolras’s lead. 

 

“We can make our own,” Enjolras smiled, pressing kisses into Alex’s hair, “we don’t need music.”

 

They swayed in the middle of the room, neither of them caring how they looked, they were in their own world with each other at the centre of it. Paris moved on outside the window, but it seemed to move separately to them, at least in that moment. Enjolras grinned down at Alex, who tilted his head up and stood on his tiptoes; their lips met. Enjolras’s hands moved to cup Alexander’s cheeks, deepening the kiss, as they moved in sync. Alexander’s hand gripped Enjolras’s necktie, pulling him down, his other hand reached around the back of Enjolras’s head and tangled in the feather light baby hairs that gathered there. Their noses rubbed against each other as they switched angles, but neither of them minded, Enjolras huffed out a little puff of air and just started kissing him again.

 

“I should get back to writing,” Alexander said softly, pressing his forehead against Enjolras’s, and smiling a little in the fading light. 

 

“Or,” Enjolras grinned, walking him back to the wall, so he was pressed into the cool stone, “we could keep kissing.” Enjolras started to kiss down his throat, his hands holding Alex steady at his hips. 

 

“We could, but we also have a meeting tomorrow that I haven’t written for,” Alexander moaned slightly as Enjolras bit and nipped a red mark into the crook of his neck. “Or,” he paused to let out another soft moan, “we could keep kissing.”

 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Enjolras smiled against Alex’s skin before sliding his hands round Alex and hoisting him up so he was forced to hook his legs around Enjolras’s waist. 

 

Alex’s back was pressed against the cooling stone of the wall, as Enjolras moved one hand to run through his hair; Alexander’s hands were still tangled in the hairs at the back of his lovers neck. Alexander pressed himself closer to Enjolras, letting the other’s heat warm him up, feeling Enjolras’s hard lines mould themselves to his. Alexander dug his heals in to the small of Enjolras’s back, so much so there would probably be bruises there in the morning; though by the way Enjolras moaned he didn't seem to mind much.The candle had burned out, the wax flowing freely across the table, but the boys didn't notice. Alexander ran his hands down Enjolras’s chest, trying to bring the other closer still. 

 

“I,” Enjolras said, as Alexander pressed kisses along his jaw, “you have no idea how much I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this made up for the horrors I put you guys through yesterday.


End file.
